


Memories Are Mapped Out By the Lines We'll Trace

by rivlee



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Found Families, Gen, M/M, Made Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Family meant a lot to a boy who had lost all of his and it meant even more to a man who lived still in the shadows of his family’s ghosts.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Small bits of Matt Murdock's life during and after the first season of Daredevil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Are Mapped Out By the Lines We'll Trace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [augustbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/augustbird/gifts).



Family meant a lot to a boy who had lost all of his and it meant even more to a man who lived still in the shadow of his family’s ghosts. He’d been lucky enough to start making a family of his own, even if Matt Murdock only had Foggy Nelson now, Foggy came with a large extended family and friends close enough to be blood. They’d all accepted Matt as one of theirs long ago and it made him feel less alone in a world where so much made him feel ludicrously singled out. He rarely felt truly alone though, not with Foggy at his side.

There were things Foggy could never know though, and as Matt waited in the night for his next mission, he knew he had to be alone to protect all those he now called family.

**********

The hoodie was actually one of Foggy’s; a relic from their college years shrunk and faded to a perfect softness Matt couldn’t find in anything anywhere else. He’d borrowed it once. Foggy never asked for it back and Matt never offered to return it. It had become sort of his security blanket now, what he chose to wrap himself up in the days after the long nights, a body full of battered bones and bruises. After the worst fights and nights when he doubted humanity’s future, he liked to think it still carried Foggy’s scent, even though he knew better. It was a comfort to have a piece of him so close; a piece that covered up the evidence of the secret he couldn’t tell Foggy to his face.

Matt knew about inevitability and that Foggy would find out about what he did after-hours one day soon. Foggy was smart, far smarter than most people gave him credit for, especially since he played up his humor and foolish side to lull people into a false sense of security. Foggy could easily be a shark, if he wasn’t such a genuinely good person.

Matt was lying to him now, by omission and with every time he said he’d had an accident. Foggy would figure it out sooner rather than later and he’d be pissed. Matt only hoped he wouldn’t feel completely betrayed. If Foggy knew about this, he’d be in danger, and Matt had sworn he wouldn’t let that happen, not because of what he chose to and had to do.

He ran his fingers over the soft fabric of the hoodie and sat down with a beer as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his side and in his head.

**********

Legacy meant something to Matt Murdock. Maybe it was being Jack Murdock’s boy, maybe it was being from Hell’s Kitchen, or maybe it was because legacy was something he could hold on to since the bones-blood-and-skin of his family’s history was left only to him.

Matt knew legacy was more than just blood though, and that it carried on in the smallest of things, like the tie clip. The tie clip was his father’s, something Jack Murdock rarely ever wore, but kept for rare occasions. It was Grandfather Francis’ first and passed to Jack after he was gone. Matt wore it once, only once, for his First Communion—all suited up and the only boy with a tie clip. It was the Murdock’s tie clip though and Matt wore it proudly.

After the accident, after his father was murdered in a back alley, after Stick and St. Agnes, Matt never wore it, though he still kept it with him. He remembered how it would shine nestled in the box in his father’s bedroom. He could still feel it now, the raised engraving of the _**M**_ and he remembered how important it was to his father, what it meant for them to own something and keep it and treasure it even when it could’ve or should’ve been pawned for rent. It was a point of pride and principle, to own something that Outsiders would think people like them couldn’t afford.

It was part of their legacy.

It meant something to come from Hell’s Kitchen and its past. It was a title and an identifier and worked for and against them, both him and Foggy. Matt knew the kind of world they were to step into upon graduation, among kids coming out of the New England Ivy Leagues and families full of law-firm legacies. They would stand out, though they would be together. Still, Foggy deserved something _more_ and _nice_ and a gift of gratitude, friendship, and family and that’s why he bought him his own tie clip for graduation.

It was easy enough to find an embosser with a good reputation. Matt remembered running his fingers over the large _**F ******_in the center of the clip and smiling as he nodded in gratitude and handed over his card to pay.

Every single time Foggy wore a tie now he wore the clip. The first time on their first day of work he had grabbed Matt’s hands and let his fingers run over the cloth of his tie, the smoothness of the clip, and the large _F_ in the middle.

“Dude, my tie clip kicks all the other tie clips asses,” Foggy had said.

Legacy could also come from just one person loving you and remembering you lived, even if it was just an old story told about a family tie clip given to a guy from his old college friend.

**********

Foggy’s fingers grazed over his neck as he adjusted Matt’s scarf. “I can’t believe you still have this thing.”

“It was a gift,” Matt said. Mrs. Nelson gave it to him during the first of many shared Christmas celebrations with the Nelsons and the Mahoneys next door. 

“From ten years ago,” Foggy said, the smile and affection clear in his voice.

“I like it,” Matt said. “It’s soft.”

“She’s made you like eight more since then,” Foggy said. 

“But this is the first one,” Matt said. He reached out for the arm he knew Foggy had held out. “So, lunch?”

“Lunch,” Foggy agreed. “Josie’s?”

Matt laughed. “Maybe something a little more lunch-appropriate. Lucille’s?”

“Ahh, yes, the pie” Foggy said. “Lucille’s it is.”

Matt reached out for the arm he knew would always be there for him.

**********

Matt tried to watch his language—byproduct of Nuns and years in a Catholic orphanage—but it really fucking sucked balls when all you had of your best friend was a head full of memories and a hoodie.

Foggy hadn’t taken it well, the revelation that the man in the mask was his best friend. Matt couldn’t blame him. There were things that couldn’t be forgiven, and Matt knew that, and knew now he would seek penance only if Foggy allowed it.

He just didn’t want to know what the world was like where Foggy Nelson was now a stranger.

Karen’s lavender-and-vanilla scented perfume still lingered on Matt’s coat, and he remembered her tight hold as she promised him he wasn’t alone. He could still smell the wet grass and dirt of the graveyard as the said their final goodbyes to Ben, the pull of his shoes in the mud as he sank down and felt pulled lowered.

Foggy hadn’t been at the funeral for whatever reason and his absence after it all was its own suffocating ghost in their office.

Matt took a sniff of his hoodie’s sleeve as he leaned back against his couch and thought of nights spent in their college dorm. Those nights were full of the smell of bad coffee and burnt popcorn, of Foggy tossing a baseball between his hands as he paced and puzzled out his thesis. He thought of that night during their first week of finals and how he’d sat down next to Matt on his bed and leaned into him the first time Matt read him Thurgood Marshall’s Liberty Medal speech.

It really fucking sucked balls to realize you loved your friend so much, you couldn’t even recall when you’d fallen _in love_ with them.

Matt sat up, wiped his eyes of the tears he could feel, and stretched. As much as he loved legacy, the stakes were too high to wallow in the past now. There was only ahead and forward and what was to come.

Stick couldn’t take his family from him. Fisk wasn’t going to get away with trying to destroy his home.

Forward. It was the only way to go.

*********

Red and black were his father’s colors. Black leather jacket and black shirts, red boxing corner, red gloves, red satin robe with the Murdock name on the back. Red and black were Murdock colors. They hid blood well.

Before when he was just a nameless vigilante, when there was no Claire and Foggy didn’t know and secrecy was something he clung to, Matt’s colors were just black, even though he saw a world of red. Red and black were Murdock colors, and what he saw, and what he was now.

He held still as Foggy’s fingers brushed across his shoulders. “The horns are a little much, but you look good. Of course you look good, it’s you, but you didn’t go the spandex and tights route at least. Where did you find this? And don’t you dare say the internet.”

“I know a guy,” Matt said.

“You know a guy,” Foggy said. “Of course you do. Asshole.”

Foggy’s arm was waiting for him when Matt reached out.

**********

“What’s this?” Matt asked as he ran his fingers over a slip of silk with a raised pattern. “Did you buy me a tie?”

There was a clink of beer bottles on the table as Foggy sat down. 

“Celebration for officially having a sign on the building. Dude, you needed something that wasn’t so boring. It’s still boring for me, but for you? It works,” Foggy said. “I promise it’s not little frogs.”

“Ducks?” Matt guessed. “An official emblem for my _wounded, handsome duck thing_?” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he remembered that first meeting all those years ago. 

“See this? This is why we’re awesome together,” Foggy said. “We just know each other.” 

“Ducks?” Karen asked. He could hear the swish of her hair as she turned her head. “Why does Matt remind me you of a duck?”

“Duckling to be more accurate,” Matt said. “Apparently it’s a perfect ruse to pick up women.”

Karen scoffed as Foggy said, “Quack, quack, quack.”

“Can someone pass the mashed potatoes?” Matt asked.

“Don’t you mean _quack, quack, quack_?” Karen asked as she slid the dish over to him.

**********

Foggy smelt like dirt and fresh cut grass, sweat and sunshine and fruit punch Gatorade. Matt took a deep breath and let the smells linger.

“Good game?” he asked before Foggy even finished clearing the door of their office.

“You’ve got sonar, I swear to god,” Foggy said. He placed a packet of something sweet smelling in front of Matt. “I got you some Big League Chew.”

“Grape flavored?” Matt asked as he took another deep breath and detected the chemically enhanced scent.

“See,” Foggy said, “this just adds to my proof that you’re not really blind. You just heard that _Sunglasses at Night_ song as a kid and decided to take it on as your personal life manifesto.”

“You’ve caught me,” Matt said. He hummed the chorus of the song until he couldn’t stop laughing.

*********

The new suit helped protect him far better than his old one, but that didn’t mean he was without bumps, cuts, and bruises. Claire was still nice enough to check up on him the mornings after his exploits made the papers. She’d come back to the city after Fisk went into jail, even though they both knew it was an uneasy peace. Fisk was too powerful a man to stay locked-up for long. Matt would be there when he got out.

Foggy and Karen were in his kitchen cooking up some breakfast buffet as their shared laughter filled the apartment. Karen still didn’t know about the man behind the mask, but Claire had played along as a concerned old friend after hearing about Matt’s latest accident. 

He could feel Claire’s eyes on him now. 

“What?” he asked.

“Does he know how much you love him?”

“We’ve been friends for years.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Claire said. Her fingers were careful as they fussed with his hair. “You have to tell him, you know that.”

Matt shook his head and let Claire’s hand fall away. “My last revelation almost destroyed us. Once a year is good enough for me.”

“And there’s the Martyr-syndrome again,” Claire said. “You both deserve and are worthy of more.”

“So are you,” Matt said.

Claire’s lips were gentle and warm as they kissed his forehead. “I’m working on it. So should you.” 

There was a knock from the doorway. “Foggy wants you to know breakfast is ready,” Karen said.

“Not like that,” Foggy called. “You have to announce it proudly. Breakfast is served,” he said with a flourish.

“He just bowed,” Karen said.

“Of course he did,” Matt said. He took the arm Claire offered him and smiled as she pinched his elbow.

“Tell him,” she whispered. 

“One day,” he promised.

***********

There was a different scent filling their office. Matt tilted his head to the side as he heard Karen laugh and concentrated on the sound of her heels clicking across the floor and the scent of her perfume.

“Coffee?” Karen asked as the fabric of her dress brushed up against the wooden lintels of his doorway. “I promise to go out and buy some instead of making it.”

Matt smiled at the nervous inflection in her words under the humor. “Orange blossom isn’t your typical scent. It’s usually lavender and vanilla. Does she have a name?”

“How did you?” Karen’s breath stuttered. “Colleen, okay. Her name’s Colleen and she makes really great coffee.”

He could see the red light grow more intense around her face and knew she was blushing. 

“Yeah, I could go for a cup of coffee. Take your time,” Matt said. 

“I’ll…yes,” Karen said. “I’ll be back eventually.”

“Enjoy,” Matt said.

“Don’t make me throw Foggy’s softball at you,” Karen warned.

“Now that would just be cruel,” he teased.

“Leaving now,” Karen said with a shake of her keys.

**********

There were sounds that meant something to him; not necessarily sounds he loved, or felt comforted by, but still meant something special. Rain hitting the window, fists hitting a punching bag, the sound of Foggy throwing and catching a softball, the echoing clunk of a lead pipe on the pavement, Karen’s soft laugh, the clicking of rosary beads, the scrape of metal as he opened the box of his dad’s first aid kit like any good cut man, shoes crunching on gravel and broken glass, the snap of Claire pulling on her gloves, the snick of a switchblade.

The sounds of Nelson & Murdock had become as natural to him as the sound of his own breathing, though it also offered its own comfort filled with laughter, the clicking of computer keys, the shuffling of papers, and the groan of the floorboards as they were walked across.

Matt paused in his reading as he heard Foggy walk into his office and sit down on the corner of his desk. He smelled of toner ink, sweat, and the hot dogs they’d both had for lunch.

“Gave up on changing the printer ink and finally let Karen do it?” Matt asked.

“She told me the toner cartridges are far too expensive for me to actually take my bat to them,” Foggy said. His fingers skimmed over Matt’s own. “Your knuckles look pretty busted up.”

“I have some anger issues,” Matt said.

“That makes three of us at least,” Foggy said. “You’ve heard the mouth on Karen when she’s pissed.”

Karen had a way with adult language that Matt could only envy. She made it sound almost song-like as she cursed out their various appliances. 

“We can only hope to achieve her level,” Matt agreed. He tried not to listen to Foggy’s heartbeat, but he couldn’t help it. It had become one of those steady sounds that he’d come to need in his life. It was more rapid than usual. 

“Everything okay, Foggy?” he asked.

“Heartbeat?” Foggy guessed.

“Sorry,” Matt said. “I can’t really help it with you. It’s just…it’s a thing I’ve always done. I listened to it that first night in our dorm room to lull me to sleep and it’s just kind of constant for me.”

“Creep,” Foggy said with a laugh. “I feel like I’m missing the perfect opportunity to make a _Tell-Tale Heart_ joke here, but I give you official permission to do it whenever you want. Just let me keep my white lies, okay?”

“I promise,” Matt said. 

“Great,” Foggy said. He shifted in his spot and the fabric of his trousers grazed against the bare skin of Matt’s wrist. 

Matt didn’t know whose heart was beating faster then, his or Foggy’s. 

“You know I was pissed at you for a ton of reasons after I found out about your alter-ego, the possibility of you getting killed probably the biggest of them all, even more than the lying to me about it. I started to think after I left and the days in between about all we hadn’t done yet or things we could’ve done. I don’t like regrets, Matt. I don’t wear them well.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Matt agreed. He only wanted the absolute best for Foggy. “I’m still not playing softball with you, though. I’ll cheer you on from the stands.”

Foggy laughed. “I guess I’ll have to settle for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for anything,” Matt said. 

Foggy took a deep breath, his heartbeat went steady again. “So since you can’t see the face I’m making at you right now, I really want to kiss you, just a general FYI.”

Matt leaned into the pulsing fire-light that was Foggy. “That’s a good feeling. I think you should go for it.”

“Yeah?” Foggy asked. 

“Yeah,” Matt said. 

Foggy’s lips were slightly chapped and he still had the taste of chili in his mouth, but it just made Matt lean in closer. He gripped the smooth skin of Foggy’s chin, his neck, and almost sighed at the soft hair that tickled his face.

The floorboards squeaked and then so did Karen. 

“I’ll just leave you two to your important meeting here,” Karen said. “I’ll just head home early for the night.”

“Colleen making you her special blend?” Foggy asked as his hands rested on the back of Matt’s neck. 

Karen’s answered got drowned out in her and Matt’s shared laughter. 

Legacy was important to Matt Murdock, family too, and here in Nelson & Murdock he had both.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Jenny for giving me all the encouragement. Title from Bastille's _Laughter Lines_.


End file.
